A DOG HUNT ON THE BERWYNS 287 



ravines run down on either hand throudi oreen, 

 ferny sheep-walks, dotted with innumerable sheep. 

 These ravines in winter time, when the snow lies 

 deep on the hills, are, when not frost-bound, roar- 

 ing torrents. In the summer, huge blocks of stone 

 are scattered about in strange confusion, and a 

 tiny stream can scarcely find its way between 

 them. Lower down still can be seen, here and 

 there, a farm-house, in some sheltered glen, kept 

 green all the year round by the trickling moisture. 

 Further off still, in the valleys, are villages and 

 hamlets tenanted by hardy Welsh sheep-farmers 

 and dealers. 



In the least-exposed corners of the sheep-walks 

 are folds built of loose, unmortared stones, in which 

 the sheep huddle to find shelter from the fury of 

 the frequent storms which sweep over the moun- 

 tains. 



As the wealth of the hill farmers consists cliiefly 

 of sheep, if a dog once takes to worrying them, he 

 is either kept in durance vile, or killed. The habit 

 once acquired is never got rid of ; and after a 

 sheep-dog has once tasted blood, it becomes prac- 

 tically useless to the farmer. The quantity of 

 sheep that can be killed by such a dog in a short 

 time is almost incredible. 



It may be imagined, therefore, with what feelings 



